“I don’t plan on going.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to Loker. Now if you don’t mind, I’m tired and want to go home.” Loker took her arm, preventing her from getting into her car.

“Are you mad at me for something?” He asked sharply.

“Why would I be angry?” Winter snapped.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Winter sighed to herself. He was clueless. For the last two years she thought they would eventually move toward a more intimate relationship, but after seeing his reaction to the blonde, she was finally admitting to herself that nothing was going to change.

Over her shoulder she saw Emily getting inside the football coach’s car as he held the door open. She was blatantly flirting with him, perhaps that had been where she had gone wrong.

“I could fix us dinner at my house,” she said with a soft smile, ignoring his question.

Loker’s eyes narrowed and his hand dropped from her arm.

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I thought we would just grab a quick dinner. My plane leaves at six in the morning, so I need an early night.”

“You could stay at my house tonight and leave from there,” Winter suggested. She had shamelessly asked him to spend the night with her. Holding his eyes with hers, she felt her checks redden in embarrassment.

Loker studied her flushed face for a minute before replying.

“That’s a tempting invitation, but I haven’t packed yet. I’ll call you when I get back in town. We could go to Vincent’s party and make a night of it.”

“I’d like that,” instantly changing her mind about going to the party.

He glanced at his watch. “I should go, it’s getting late.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. Telling her he would call, he left her staring at his abrupt departure. There was no doubt in Winter’s mind that if it had been the blonde issuing the invitation, he wouldn’t have refused. He had shown no hesitation in refusing hers, seemingly more concerned with Vincent’s party. She had been a high school principal long enough to tell when she was being manipulated. The sad part was, she let him get away with it.

Winter frowned. She wasn’t wealthy and even though Vincent was her relative, she had no influence over his business decisions. She sighed silently, getting into her car. Loker would be back in two weeks and it was past time they had a conversation about their relationship.

***

The Pink Slipper was busy tonight, Winter thought while looking around the busy bar.

“Would you like something to drink Winter?” Shelly asked politely.

“I’ll take an iced tea, thank you.” She gazed around the room as Shelly Scott and Lexi Clark talked. The president and vice-president of the PTA had asked her to accompany them to pick up a large donation for the new scoreboard, made by the owner of the Pink Slipper. Usually the athletic director would go, but his wife had gone into labor that morning and Winter had been asked to extend her gratitude on behalf of the students. She loved her job, but she was getting tired of the politics involved.

Loud feminine laughter drew her gaze to a table a few feet away. Winter was surprised when she recognized a familiar face within the boisterous group. Beth Cornett had helped care for her mother toward the latter stages of her cancer. They also attended the same church every Sunday. She almost choked on her tea when she heard Beth call them by their names, Sex Piston, Crazy Bitch, and Killyama. Her eyes widened when she realized the group of women Beth was with must belong to a motorcycle club. She came to that conclusion when their male counterparts entered the bar and didn’t seem happy about their women being in the bar.

Winter tried to be polite, but was unable to restrain her curiosity by watching the argument take place since she practically had a front row seat. She was beginning to become concerned for Beth when the door to the bar opened again. This motorcycle club Winter recognized from the jackets they were wearing. The Last Riders took command the second they entered the bar. The large group headed straight to Beth’s table.

“Beth.”

“Razer?”

“Let’s go.”

“Bitch isn’t going no where with you or your men.” The woman then turned to the man who had taken a seat beside her at the table. “You both need to get back on your machines and leave us to our fun.” The woman with her hair teased and crazy eyes answered for Beth.

“Beth, let’s go, not telling you again.” Beth’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“You don’t have the right to tell me shit. Crazy Bitch is right, you guys need to leave us alone. We were minding our own business until everyone interfered.”

“Minding what was in the pants of those pussy’s you bitches were dancing with when we showed up,” snapped one of the bikers.

“Don’t care what you think Ace. We came to celebrate my shop opening Monday. The same one you, and none of you other assholes wanted to help paint or do shit to help with. Don’t want you guys here tonight; you don’t deserve to be part of our party.”

“Didn’t see that douche bag you had your tongue down his throat doing any hammering there either.”

“Yeah well, he was going to do plenty later tonight,” Sex Piston taunted the biker.

“Was he, or were they?” He jerked his head towards the other club. “Did you plan on hitting their clubhouse next?” The one named Ace asked in a menace-laden voice.

“You kidding me? We were going to fuck around, not betray the club. If we were going to do that, we would have picked one worth the punishment of breaking a rule.”

“Did she just put us down?” One of the Last Riders asked. Winter couldn’t believe how huge the bald headed biker was. He was easily the biggest one in the bar.

“Yes she did, dumbass,” Sex Piston mocked.

Winter saw four women push to the front of the men, standing by the Last Riders. She recognized the attractive one from church. Pastor Dean had even introduced the woman to the congregation as Evie.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” an angry voice asked. Winter’s eyes looked toward the biker who spoke sharply to the women, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her.

“Loker James?” Beth’s questioning voice reverberated through Winter’s shocked mind. She couldn’t suppress a gasp from escaping her lips, drawing his attention. Their gazes met across the room as she took in his tight leather pants, boots, and black t-shirt with a leather vest. The Last Rider’s patches were on the back, proclaiming his membership. The tribal sleeve down one arm was another shock; she hadn’t even known he had a tattoo, much less one so large. She had never seen him in anything but expensive suits with his hair immaculately brushed. Now the dark mass was longer than she would ever believe he would wear it, making him appear just as dangerous as the others standing next to him. Loker had always displayed a brooding presence with his sophisticated appearance. In his biker gear, there was no appearance of sophistication, nothing was civilized about this man. This Loker James was someone to watch warily, then get the hell out of dodge, which is what everyone in the restaurant was doing.

“He’s Viper,” Evie said.